


Room 7

by xipeek



Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: Charlotte's POV, F/F, One Shot, also torn Charlotte, confused Charlotte, taking place during ep 3x03, there just needed to be something more to that hotel scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24371752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xipeek/pseuds/xipeek
Summary: Charlotte and Dolores are spooning in a hotel and really something ~more needed to happen.
Relationships: Dolores Abernathy/Charlotte Hale
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	Room 7

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much @doreah for beta-reading it !

“You belong to me, you know that right?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t hurt yourself. Ever again.”

The threat is implicit but it’s there nonetheless and it scares you. You’re not sure anything you could answer would satisfy her, so you don’t say anything and keep your head down. At least she’s staying; at least she cares.

The confusion never goes away, but her arms around you act like a shield, protecting you from the overwhelming and ever-present feeling that you don’t belong here. Despite everything she may tell you, and though you can feel deep inside that you are, in fact, bound to her in ways that you cannot comprehend, you can’t shake the feeling that you’re out of place. Charlotte Hale is in there somewhere, reaching for the surface of your consciousness to regain the control over the replica of her body. So you struggle, more than you’re willing to admit, and you suspect that Dolores can read right through your carefully controlled attitude. 

She’s concerned but you fear there’s something more to her perfectly-shaped frowning brows. _Disappointment_. In the quiet hotel room, the word echoes in your head and shatters the semblance of peace you had managed to gather. You try to focus on the facts, like her slender and toned body welcoming your own so perfectly. Or on the softness of her arms on your bare skin. These are your feelings and they’re anchoring you to this dimly lit room that smells of freshly washed linen, and in which the temperature seems to match the exact one of your own body.

But it’s not enough.

You try to close your eyes and listen to the regular breathing going on in the nape of your neck, but the moment you focus on this peculiar sensation, a shiver runs through your body and all the hair on your arms stand on end. Another thing you can’t quite control. 

Dolores doesn’t seem to notice anything and you wonder if she’s fallen asleep. Does she even need to sleep? 

Restless, you start wondering if the doubts will ever subside. You don’t know who you are. But, with startling simplicity, you know precisely what you want. 

To regain control.

In a swift motion, you turn around to face Dolores. Her arm is still resting on your hip; she doesn’t let go. As if she knew you needed to be held into place not to lose yourself. She isn’t sleeping and her sunny blue eyes are staring right back at you, the slightest shadow of a smile playing on her lips. She blinks slowly, peacefulness embodied onto perfectly designed features, but her eyes never leave yours. She’s holding onto you in every way she can and it fuels your need to prove to her you can be in control. 

Your hand reaches for her hair, putting a loose strand back behind her ear. You linger, your fingertips grazing her cheek, tracing the outline of her lips. Discovering this other body, this other version of you made goddess. She’s everything you aspire to be, so completely confident, her mind the polar opposite of your own. Yet the looming sense of kinship is undeniable.

You’re a part of her and she’s a part of you, separate but united somehow. 

Every cell of your body is humming, from the core of what should be your heart to the tip of your fingertips every time they connect with her skin. This invisible bond holds your hand in place, shapes your fingers until your palm cups her cheek and you can feel the flow that gives you life go from your body to hers and back inside of you. You’re no longer flesh and bones, that synthetic tangible sheath. You’re ethereal energy that vibrates through the air in the room to fill it completely. Her power is streaming through your veins, empowering, intoxicating. 

She doesn’t move an inch when you cup her face, but her eyes are alert now, curious, because she can sense it too. You take a deep breath and let your eyes wander over her body before breaking the silence.

“Take your boots off.”

You don’t ask, you demand. Dolores doesn’t protest, doesn’t even flinch in any way. Calmly, she sits up and unzips her black boots methodically before discarding them on the floor with a dull thud, as the sound reverberates through the quiet room. Something like a heartbeat, if those even exist anymore in any world. She hesitates for a second before lying back down on the soft comforter, patient yet almost inscrutable, as if she is expecting your next move, as if she is the one who has premeditated each instant. 

Mimicking her earlier movements, you grab the hem of her tank top to lift it over her head. She stays still and honors your unspoken agreement, leaving you lead this dance. 

Focused on your hands while you’re reaching to unbutton her jeans, you don’t notice the utter silence in your head. The real Charlotte is quiet now and she leaves you be, as if she was also curious to see where this is going.

Dolores doesn’t need you to say anything to know what you’re expecting of her, so she sits up again and pulls at the legs of her jeans to take them off and throws them at the bottom of the bed where they join the abandoned tank top. You’re both in your underwear now, different shades of skin to embody one entity.

You gently push against Dolores’ shoulders until her head falls back against the pillow, strawberry blonde hair scattered around her like a golden crown. 

You watch her chest rise and fall, as robotic and steady as a metronome when your own heart beats so fast it feels like everything else is happening in slow motion, captive in a separate, unattainable reality. Determined not to get side-tracked by your own incertitude, you let your body talk, this same body that was trying to betray you a few hours ago. With a soft push, you find yourself straddling Dolores, knees pressed against her thighs.  
  
You hear it then:  
  
A sigh, so faint the only reason it reaches your ears is because of the almost deafening silence that has taken over the room.  
Dolores’ suddenly dilated pupils tell you a lot more than her words ever could, so you start leaning in deliberately slowly and put your hands on either side of her head, hovering so close above her that every one of her breaths, controlled as they may be, softly tangles around the lowest strands of your hair to push them aside like an invisible hand.  
You’re getting lost again, but this time it isn’t Charlotte’s fault. You can’t look away from the depth of her eyes and the sudden touch of warm fingers that come to rest on your hips makes you draw in a breath in surprise. This new contact seems to magnify your connection and just like that, you don’t know anymore if you’re the one straddling her or if she’s the one tethering you in place, steady, like she’s always done.  
  
Doing your best to ignore the pull you’re feeling towards her hands and the way you want to intertwine your fingers with hers, you keep lowering your body until you’re almost completely pressed against her chest. Slowly closing your eyes, you let your other senses draw a map of her. Smooth skin stretching under you. Strands of hair brushing against your fingers. Hands pinning you down against her hips. Soft gasps grazing against your cheeks. Faint but distinct scent clouding what’s left of your judgment.  
  
You take your time, measuring it only with your own heartbeats like there was nothing left to this world but this hotel room.  
  
When you open your eyes, Dolores is still looking right at you, right inside you. She licks her lips, and says your name.  
  
“Charlotte.”  
  
Something tugs at you, an unknown feeling that’s swelling in your chest and makes you feel, for a split second, like you’re about to implode.  
Her lips part, she says again. “Charlotte.” She’s reminding you who you are, but you don’t need that. Because you know what you want and it has little to do with your name, or the person you are.  
  
Leaning in, you press your lips against hers softly at first, then more firmly. You don’t quite let her kiss you back before leaning back to take a look at her.  
You’re glad to see she’s taken aback, at least this is something she wouldn’t have anticipated, even with that advanced computerized brain of hers. Leaning in again, you take your time this time, slowly pressing your mouth against hers and moving your lips until you feel her press back against you. The grip at your hips tightens and you can’t help a low moan evading your parted lips when you feel her pelvis push against yours. You know what she’s trying to do, but you won’t let her have it.  
  
You’re the one in control, so you’re the one who bites her lower lip and then immediately kisses it, soothes the sore delicate skin with the tip of your tongue. When you kiss again it’s more languorous and tender, because she’s stopped fighting and she’s letting you take the lead. She even lets go of your hips and though you immediately miss her hands grounding you, you like how they slither up the bed and come slide under yours on either part of her head. Palms pressed against each other, your fingers intertwine to form a fist; and how perfect, you think, that this sort of symbol of strength and destruction would emerge from a single entity broken down into different bodies. Unity, at last.  
You can feel her breathing quicken through the kiss, her tongue more eager by the second and you know you’ve made your point. You reluctantly take your lips away from hers and wait for her to open her eyes before saying:  
  
“ _You_ belong to _me_.”  
  
Your voice is confident, more so than it has been in a while.


End file.
